The Return of THE Woman
by SwordSkill
Summary: Everyone here still remember THE woman? She's back...how will Sherlock react? Please R/R!
1. The Note

The Return of _The_ Woman   


by SwordSkill 

**Author's Notes:** Sherlock Holmes and all related characters are original creations of the genius of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Original characters (meaning mine) will be noted. This fic takes place somewhere between_ A Scandal in Bohemia_ and Holmes's retirement. Please R/R. 

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_He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honorable title of_ the_ woman._

- Watson, "A Scandal in Bohemia" 

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1   


**The Note**

It has been much too obvious that my friend Holmes had never shown any interest to the opposite gender. His much too organized mind had always detested the thought of love, let alone marriage. He never made mention of any specific lady, except for the occasional _the_ woman. 

Irene Norton, _nee_ Adler. The only woman whom Holmes believed deserved respect, after being fooled by this clever lady. Of course, he had never felt any emotions akin to love. Emotions were for blind fools, he seemed to imply. And yet I knew that there will always be this one woman to him, this Irene Adler.

I had just finished my visitations to my patients on one foggy Saturday night, when I perchanced to cross by Baker Street. I stopped at **221B ** and looked at the familiar, old door where I had stepped in for countless times. I would always associate this place with the dark mysteries Holmes had solved. 

I suddenly remembered that such was the scenario before Holmes and I became involved in _A Scandal in Bohemia _. I had innocently passed by after visiting a patient and gave old Homes a call, and before I knew it, we were both in service to Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, the King of Bohemia, to settle a business with the woman Irene Adler. She was from Warsaw, trained in the operatic stage, retired, became an adventuress, and after a complicated events was married to Mr. Godfrey Norton. I understand she is about four years Holmes's junior.

Now, I could not help but give the door a good ring. It had been too long since I had seen my scientific friend. I was shown up by kind Mrs. Hudson to the old staircase leading to my former lodgings. 

Halfway by the staircase, I sniffed the burning smell of sulfur, and by the door of the chamber I once shared with Holmes, I perceived puffs of smoke coming out. 

"What in heaven's name..." 

"He's at it again, Mr. Watson," said Mrs. Hudson wearily. "By the Queen, he's been suffocating the whole house with his chemicals since yesterday." She sniffed, "It's quite frightening to think what he's been doing."

I heard a loud bang! and a triumphant yell.

"I daresay, Mrs. Hudson," I said, smiling, "that the fumes will be gone by tomorrow." 

When I opened the door, I was greeted by an ugly gray puff of smoke that swirled around me. It dashed at the stairs and out to the living room. Mrs. Hudson hurriedly rushed down to air out the smoke. 

"Holmes!" I shouted, coughing my way in. I hung up my hat on the stand and yelled, "What the dickens are you up to now?!"

"My dear Watson!" I heard Holmes's delighted voice. "I could not have asked for a more perfect timing!" 

I saw his thin, lanky form emerge from the smoke. He was dressed in a lounging robe with a pipe in his mouth. He waved me at an armchair that I barely saw and said "Do sit!" He walked across the room to open the windows to clear the room.

I found my way to the chair as he stood by the fireplace with that old, introspective expression on his face added to a victorious smile that stretched from one ear to another.

"Well, Watson," he said, "what brings you here?" 

"I just came for a friendly visit," I said, peering curiously at the part of the room where he kept his scientific instruments. "What _have_ you been doing, Holmes? You've given Mrs. Hudson quite a fright."

He gave a short laugh and said, "Dear, dear Mrs. Hudson. I must apologize to her tomorrow." He rubbed his hands gleefully and said happily, "I've just found another re-agent for vegetable alkaloid. Very hard work, I must say."

I was about to say something when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in, come in," said Holmes merrily, seating himself on another chair.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door with a little piece of white paper in her hand.

"Just came, Mr. Holmes," she said, passing it to him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," said Holmes, reaching his long arm to receive the note.

After Mrs. Hudson closed the door shut, Holmes quickly scanned the piece of paper. I saw his face suddenly evolve to disbelief. 

"What's the matter, Holmes?" I asked, concerned. It was not always that I saw Holmes taken aback.

He tossed the piece of paper to me and with a very queer expression written in his lean, gaunt face, he said, "See what you can make out of it, Watson." 

The note ran in this way: 

MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,   


I would very much appreciate it if you would   
come over behind old Jacobson's yard at half-past  
nine tonight to discuss a private matter. I remain,  
dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,  
Very Truly Yours,  
Irene Norton, nee Adler. 

I glanced up from the curt letter. "By Jove, Holmes! Could it be?"

"Yes, it is _the_ woman." Holmes's voice seemed very cold. "Observe, Watson." He set down his pipe and steepled his fingers. "The rather scribbled handwriting points to the fact that the note was written in a hurry. Paper has the mark of 'V' signifying it to be the paper from a local hotel nearby, the Victorian. Dirty fingerprints means that she had some little urchin deliver it."

"How do we know that she indeed wrote it and is not a hoax?" 

Holmes looked at the fireplace. "I remember her handwriting from the letter she gave me once." 

"But what is it, Holmes?" 

"What's it supposed to be," he said, his eyes veering to her picture at the mantlepiece that she had given him. "A note from _her_." He looked up, his stony eyes gleaming. "This certainly deserves some thought."

I was surprised. As far as I remembered, Holmes had never thought of turning away from a mysterious letter. Apparently, Irene Adler Norton had affected him.

He quickly looked at the clock. "Quarter to nine. Care to join me, Watson?" 

"I'm at you disposal, Holmes, if you're willing for me to go tell my wife that I'd be late." 

"I can always count on you, can't I, Watson?" he said, nodding. 

"Of course, Holmes." I took my hat and opened the door.

***

After I told Mary that Holmes needed me, I walked back the cobblestone street of Baker. There, at the side of the road stood Holmes, in his usual garb for the "London fog": a woolen, checkered hat and overcoat, and his walking stick. He had just halloed a hansom for us. 

"Come on, Watson," he said, climbing up the carriage.

When I had safely boarded, he told the cabbie, "Jacobson's Yard, by the River Thames." 

The hansom sped. I looked at Holmes, wondering what must be going on in that calculating mind of his. So far, his face had regained its usual expression: expressionlessness. 

I ventured out. "Holmes, I have a rather personal question." 

"Yes, Watson?" 

"Have you ever thought about Irene Adler Norton in a..." I hesitated, "more emotional way?" 

Holmes gave a sarcastic laugh. "You disappoint me, Watson. You know my precepts. Whatever emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things." He shot me a meaningful look. "That is why I was also quite disappointed when you opted to marry Miss Mary Morstan. Love is an emotional thing, and it could bias one's judgment." 

"I see." 

We rode in silence until the hansom stopped by the dingy barn shed that was Jacobson's yard. It looked ghoulish under the moon and over the twinkle of the rivers. Cobwebs were rampant; broken furniture were scattered all over the floor. A few fishing-smacks were tied to some posts.

Holmes stepped out the carriage and looked around as he paid the cabbie. "Aha," he said softly, espying a delicate figure framed in the pale moonlight, hiding behind the shed.

"Come, Watson," he said, motioning me to be quiet, as if Mrs. Norton was a timid animal not to be scared away. "Our client awaits."

We made our way towards her. As we neared her, I could see her features more and more clearly. I remember what Holmes had told me about her: that she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. It was no lie. She was a beautiful creature.

Holmes stopped four feet away from her. He gave a trifling glance at her ravishing beauty, tipped his hat, and said calmly, "Mrs. Norton. I am Sherlock Holmes." 

Copyright © SwordSkill 2001 

  



	2. Irene

The Return of _The_ Woman   
by SwordSkill 

**Author's Notes:** none yet, only R/R! 

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2   
**Irene**

"Mr. Holmes." 

Mrs. Irene Norton stepped out from behind the shed, revealing her whole self. She wore a white evening dress reserved for special occasions and her long dark hair was tied up in a fashionable way that we men do not comprehend. Under the moonlight, she truly was dazzling, and I understood perfectly why the King of Bohemia had once desired her. 

Holmes, on the other hand, was completely unfazed by this portrayal of beauty. 

"Mrs. Norton, before you state you case," he said coolly, "might I ask why we had to meet in such clandestine a way?" Then he lifted an eyebrow. "Keeping you from the grand ball in the Opera house, are we not?" 

Mrs. Norton looked furtively around and said, "Yes, I have just come from the ball, and excused myself from Godfrey for a while." In a low voice she continued, "I do not mean any wrong to my husband Godfrey, but I would wish that no one know of this meeting." To this, she shot me a suspicious glance.

Holmes saw this and he said, "Ah, Mrs. Norton, you have not met John Watson, a faithful friend of mine." He gave a little chuckle and said, "He played a role in the affair with King Wilhelm von Ormstein, but rest assured he is very much to be trusted." 

"Mrs Norton." I tipped my hat.

She acknowledged me with a nod. She hesitated, then turned to Holmes."Mr. Holmes, you remember the last time we saw each other."

"I find it hard to forget." 

"I apologize if I have hurt any wrong nerves, but you must understand that I had to do what I knew was right, and I was not to be told any difference." There was a fiery spark in her eyes. 

"Oh, Mrs. Norton." Holmes waved his hand indifferently. "Surely you must not think I keep any grudge against you. I bear no emotion. Have no fear." 

"Well, thank you, Mr. Holmes." She paused and said, "You must understand I preferred not to meet you at your lodgings for fear of being followed." 

"Followed? Ah, we have enemies, then." Holmes rubbed his hands. 

"No definite enemies yet." She shot me another suspicious look and said, "I _did_ rather wish to converse with you in private, Mr. Holmes." 

I quickly turned my heels to leave, but Holmes instantly straightened and said quite stiffly, "Watson, stop. Mrs. Norton, either Watson hears it with me, or no one shall." 

Irene Norton looked condescendingly at me and said, "Very well, if that is your policy. I trust your judgment, Sherlock Holmes." 

"That is a wise thing to do." 

Irene chose to ignore the rather sardonic comment and began, "Mr. Holmes, you know my husband Godfrey Norton. He is a lawyer, and a very good one at that. 

"I've heard of him." 

"We have been living rather peacefully after the scandal with the King, and we even had a son by the name of Godwin." 

Holmes did not respond. 

"Well, working in political science can reward you some enemies, and I'm afraid Godfrey had gone and just done so."

"How so?"

"Our house has been broken into, Mr. Holmes." 

"Hm-mm." 

"We were burgled of some heirlooms and were left with numerous threatening letters." 

"Ah." A hint of interest mixed in Holmes's voice. "And you suspect that these letters were goaded with Mr. Norton's law activities." 

"It's only a theory." Irene Norton shook her head. "I don't believe that Godfrey has made any enemies other than his being a lawyer." 

"Any suspects you may consider?" 

"Not really." 

Holmes paused his interrogation and Irene dove in. "Will you take the case of finding the proprietor of this injustice?" 

Holmes must have thought the matter to be too trifling for his time for he said, "You have not considered to call upon Scotland Yard?" 

Irene gave a laugh and said, "Well, the police has a very certain way of probing that makes Godfrey and I rather uncomfortable."

"I cannot guarantee you a pleasant sleuthing." 

"Is that an affirmative, Sherlock Holmes?" 

He shook his head. "Would you mind if we call upon you tomorrow morning to see how things are in your house?" 

Irene smiled. "I'd be delighted." She told us the street where she lived.

"Very well, expect us at precisely ten o'clock tomorrow morning." 

***

"You will, of course, take the case." 

Holmes and I were quietly riding back to Baker Street. 

"It's all too simple," he said, not answering my question.

"Surely you're not thinking of turning Mrs. Norton down because of its simplicity?"

"My dear Watson, perish the thought." Holmes faced me squarely and said, "It is precisely its simplicity that intrigues me. There's something strange about all of this." 

He offered no explanation. 

I persisted. "Holmes. You haven't said a word about Mrs. Norton." 

He gave me a curious look. "Mrs. Norton? Why on earth should I?"

"Well, usually after you are offered a case, you verbally think it over and do that kind of sort," I said cautiously.

"In this case, it's different." Holmes took a pause before saying, "She is rather lovely, isn't she?"

I could hardly believe my ears! Here was my cold and callous friend talking about how lovely the lady was. Theat Irene was truly amazing! 

"Why, yes," I said hurriedly, not to lose the thread of conversation. "Although I'm inclined not to think about it too much." 

Holmes gave a ringing laugh. "I told you that marrying has a number of down sides." 

I chuckled. I loved Mary more than anything. She had nothing to fear.

The next morning, I arrived briskly at Holmes's door and knocked. 

"Ah, Watson. Your presence is very much appreciated!" Holmes banged the door open.

We were quickly cabbied to Mrs. Norton's house. As Holmes and I alighted, we saw a dark, aquiline man with a short moustache come out of the door and walk across the road.

"Ah, the master of the house, I presume," I heard Holmes say as he reached for the door.

"Remarkably handsome," I commented. "A perfect match for Mrs. Norton, wouldn't you think so, Holmes?"

"I have no comment whatsoever," was his reply.

I was left puzzled.

After Holmes rang, the door was quickly opened by a maid.

"Yes, who is it?" she inquired.

"Mr. Watson and Mr. Holmes, if you please," said Holmes. "Is Mrs. Norton in?"

"Oh yes, she's expecting you. Come this way, please."

We were shown in to the parlor.

Irene Norton sat on a sofa, looking very nervous. When she saw us, she rose up and said, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Mr. John Watson, I thank you very much for coming. Do sit down."

"You look rather out of the weather, Mrs. Norton," said Holmes absently, seating himself on an armchair, his eyes wandering around the room. I quietly sat down on a divan.

"Oh, well, I'm rather afraid for the sake my husband," said Mrs. Norton, resuming her seat.

"Burgled again?"

"Thank goodness, no," said Mrs. Norton, permitting a smile. "I'm just worried of him going to a work with potential enemies. Wouldn't you be frightened for your spouse's sake, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes gave a quick laugh. "That area is not my specialty, Mrs. Norton."

Mrs. Norton looked surprised. "You are not married?"

Holmes raised his hand. "I'm afraid we've run out of the topic."

This seemed strange to me, for Holmes always grabs an opportunity to battle the principle of marriage.

"Oh, excuse me," said Mrs. Norton.

Holmes took this moment to rub his hands and eye Mrs. Norton."If you wouldn't mind, Mrs. Norton, I'd like a look at the letters now, please."

"Of course."

Copyright © SwordSkill 2001 

  



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